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What’s for dinner?

As a student growing further into adulthood, ramen and macaroni and cheese just don’t cut it anymore. You want to try new foods, but cooking can be a pain. Finding recipes, making shopping lists, going grocery shopping, unpacking everything, cooking it: There are a lot of steps. If you have time on your hands, this is a fine option, but most students don’t. That’s where meal kits come in. 

What are meal kit delivery companies? 

HelloFresh is a popular meal delivery service based in Berlin, Germany. (Photo by Geoffrey Howard)

Meal kit companies like HelloFresh, Blue Apron, and Goodfood have skyrocketed to popularity in recent years, making this emerging market a $1.5 billion industry. Since 2011, the popular German company HelloFresh has provided customers with the chance to cook at home with fresh ingredients.  

The concept of companies like HelloFresh is especially appealing during COVID-19 times. These meal kit companies deliver packages to your door with all the ingredients necessary to make a meal. Dalhousie University student Sura Jamil Hannan says she is “so thankful for HelloFresh for keeping food on the table.”  

Meal kit delivery companies like HelloFresh and Chefs Plate say they have implemented additional safety measures to ensure the health and safety of their workers and customers during the pandemic. 

What’s the hype with HelloFresh? 

The website Meal Kits Canada has a breakdown of the Halifax and the Maritimes meal kit scene. HelloFresh fans have good things to say about it, and praise its vegetarian option and menu variety. 

But HelloFresh is not without its criticisms. It does not offer the cheapest meal kits on the market. Its meal kits cost roughly 10 per cent more than their competitors, according to Meal Kits Canada. The company also does not offer a vegan option and there is no plan for people who are single. But individuals can buy a two-person plan for themselves.  

Engineering student David Hodgeson urges students “to do their research before using this service.” After a few months of using HelloFresh and finding it more expensive than filling, he cancelled. The next week, a delivery showed up at his door and on his bank account. HelloFresh only offered him a credit for the mistake. “Either HelloFresh ignores cancellations or they make [the] process so confusing that many others make the same mistakes,” Hodgeson says. 

According to a 2016 report by data analytics company 1010data, only about 50 per cent of Blue Apron customers remained subscribers the following week after trying the meal kit service. In 2017, HelloFresh only had a retention rate of 11 per cent. Despite the retention problem with these companies, the meal kit industry grew over 500 per cent between 2014 and 2016. HelloFresh and other meal kit companies are only growing due to the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Sustainability and the environment 

As meal kits have soared in popularity, their convenience has become overshadowed by the nagging discomfort of their environmental impact: All of the portioned ingredients are encased in layers of cardboard and plastic. But a 2019 study in the journal Resources, Conservation and Recycling suggests meal kits may be a more environmentally friendly option after all. 

“If it wasn’t for HelloFresh, I don’t think I would ever have learned to cook.” 

 

The 2019 study found meal kits do have a higher packing impact than grocery meals. But packaging is only one part of the equation. Shopping at the grocery store comes with its own environmental costs. When those costs are quantified in terms of greenhouse gas emissions with every step in the process considered, from farm to landfill, meal kits suddenly seem much greener. The study found meal kits have lower average greenhouse gas emissions than grocery store-sourced meals. This is because meal kits’ preportioned ingredients and streamlined supply chain lower overall food waste and gas emissions. 

It’s what you make of it 

HelloFresh uses a variety of referral offerings to increase their customer base. (Photo by Geoffrey Howard)

Here’s something to understand about HelloFresh or any meal kit company: It’s not a quick-fix solution for every single meal. These meal kits are meant to reduce grocery trips and grow cooking skills. (A quick scroll through the HelloFresh Reddit page reveals people’s glee at their new-found skills.) 

“I’m cancelling HelloFresh, but I’m not mad about it,” said Diana Barris, a classics major at Dalhousie. “I got some sad produce and had to improvise from my pantry. It made me realize that I have learned to cook over the past year. I’ve grown more confident in the kitchen. . . If it wasn’t for HelloFresh, I don’t think I would ever have learned to cook. I’m glad I signed up.” 

 Meal kits are not for everyone. But if you want to learn to cook, don’t have time to figure out meals for the week and don’t want to eat takeout anymore, meal kits might be for you. 

The discs continue to fly

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The sport goes by many names: ultimate, Frisbee, ultimate disc and, of course, ultimate frisbee.

That capital F is a friendly reminder that Frisbee is a brand name, although it’s what we generally call any flying disc. Nonetheless, it’s the reason Frisbee cannot be used in ultimate formal name.

Whatever the name, the once relatively unknown game is now thriving. The sport almost became Olympic in time for the 2024 Games.

That speaks volumes about ultimate’s current state. It has made a mark not only on the Olympic front, but in Halifax. The craze is alive and well at Dalhousie University.

DKUT player Griffin Finkbeiner celebrates a score at a recent scrimmage at Wickwire Field. There are lots of reasons for DKUT to celebrate, as they were approved to begin practicing in early October. (Photo by Luke Dyment)

“It’s becoming more popular. Every year I’ve played here, more and more people show up,” said Griffin Finkbeiner, a third-year Dal student. Finkbeiner plays for Dalhousie/King’s Ultimate (DKUT, pronounced dee-cut), Dal’s ultimate club team.

DKUT usually competes in tournaments against other universities in Atlantic Canada and other local teams, but won’t this year due to COVID-19. An urban legend claims DKUT founder Chris Lee formed the club so he and some friends could go to an ultimate tournament in Montreal. This became one of the origins of the sport’s growth in Halifax.

“That’s one of the best things about playing with DKUT. It’s a gateway into the ultimate community in Halifax,” said DKUT co-captain Kristen Tymoshuk.

“We always have a mix of new and experienced players,” said Chiara Ferrero-Wong, also a co-captain. “If you’re new to the game it’s very easy to continue on playing ultimate in Halifax through DKUT.”

How ultimate is played

Joel Silver, now a prolific film producer, is credited with inventing the sport in 1968. He and a few friends wrote up the first set of rules soon after. As the sport grew during the following 50 years, the rules have adapted and often differ depending on the player’s age and level of competition.

A passer looks for a target in a crowd of players down the field. For DKUT, seven players per team will be on the field at once. (Photo by Luke Dyment)

DKUT plays with seven players per team on the field at once. The objective is to get the disc into the other team’s end zone, like football. This can only be done by passing it to a teammate in the end zone, since a player cannot walk or run with the disc.

Scoring in the end zone counts as one point. DKUT usually plays until one team scores 15 points, or until the time cap, which ranges between 60 and 90 minutes.

With a different sport comes different terminology. For instance, Finkbeiner primarily plays two positions in ultimate: workhorse cutter and option cutter; in both positions, the player works to remain open for a pass.

As the cutter position is similar to a wide receiver in football, handlers are like quarterbacks. They throw the tricky passes and almost always make the final pass when scoring.

“It sounds complicated for people just beginning, but as you go through it, things ease up a lot,” Finkbeiner said.

Halifax’s ultimate scene

COVID-19 has changed DKUT’s year on a number of levels. On a micro scale, captains Tymoshuk and Ferrero-Wong are stepping into coaching roles on the team. Schedule changes at Dal have caused field times to be during the day instead of the evening, meaning previous coaches cannot attend due to work and other commitments.

Co-captains Chiara Ferrero-Wong (left) and Kristen Tymoshuk explain a play during a scrimmage. Without a coach for the time being due to scheduling changes, they have been running a few more drills than usual. (Photo by Luke Dyment)

Tournaments and competitions have been cancelled for the fall, but Tymoshuk and Ferrero-Wong said they could soon get approval to play games this winter. That includes DKUT’s own annual tournament in April, the Tournament of Fools. DKUT planned on entering the team into a national tournament later in the school year, in what became yet another cancelled competition.

But the situation isn’t all bad news. DKUT was back on the field on Oct. 2 even with restrictions in place, Ferrero-Wong said it hasn’t felt like anything changed.

“The actual flow of practice is relatively undisturbed, which has been nice,” Ferrero-Wong said.

Ultimate competitions are underway elsewhere in the city, including leagues run by Halifax Ultimate. One advantage of playing around the city is getting the chance to make friends who play the sport elsewhere in Halifax. This presents the opportunity to play several times a week in different places. DKUT and Halifax Ultimate are only a couple of options.

“I met a lot of people on the Halifax ultimate scene through DKUT. From there, people would start inviting us [DKUT players] to other leagues in Halifax,” Tymoshuk said. “Us players get a lot of exposure that way.”

Opportunity to get outside

The lack of other activities makes playing ultimate a bonus now. Club sports like ultimate offer a chance to get out of the apartment or dorm room to see others, while having a fun and safe time.

DKUT player Leah Fulton leaps for a catch, while also barely staying in bounds. Her team would score moments later. (Photo by Luke Dyment)

“What’s incredible about DKUT in COVID is it’s one of the only opportunities first years have to socialize with people,” said Tymoshuk. “There are usually a ton of opportunities for first years to do that, but this year is different. First years who have come out are really enjoying it and are making friends. It’s definitely one of the better things about this situation.”

“You can tell that everyone’s a lot happier and very grateful that we’re still able to play this year,” Ferrero-Wong said. “It is one of the only in-person social activities that people have in their busy schedules with classes.”

Finkbeiner hopes the extraordinary circumstances will lead more people to try out the sport and eventually stick with it.

“A lot of people don’t really realize what it is, but it’s really fun,” he said. “The more people that play it, the more appreciated the sport is.”

Recruitment carries on

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Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, university teams across the country have been adjusting to regulation changes and cancellations. One obstacle that has been in place has been on the recruiting side.

U Sports has a ban on all in-person visits and recruiting, meaning that teams and players must rely on remote recruiting for the time being.

There have been both positives and negatives with this type of recruiting according to Cindy Tye, the Dalhousie University Tigers women’s soccer coach.

“Over the spring and summer, we had lots of kids from outside the Atlantic bubble reach out because everyone was locked down and kids were spending more time on websites and contacting coaches,” Tye said. “In that way, we got a lot more interest.”

Fully remote recruitment

Whitby, Ont.’s Inari Moore committed to Dal’s women’s soccer team in October despite never actually visiting Dal. She engaged with the team through virtual presentations and meetings. (Photo by Michel Khan)

Remote recruitment means some recruits commit without ever actually going on an in-person visit, such as Inari Moore from Whitby, Ont.

“It was pretty scary and intimidating,” Moore said. “What I’ve seen and heard [about Dal], it’s only been good things. But it’s still a pretty big move, 16 hours away from where I am now to somewhere I’ve never visited.”

One way that teams across the country,like the Tigers, have been able to reach prospective players has been through virtual presentations to club teams.

“We were still able to get in front of whole teams of Grade 10 or 11 kids and do a presentation on the university and they could ask questions. That was very advantageous for us,” Tye said.

Moore attended one of the presentations.

“Those were really insightful, getting to ask where they’re at with recruiting now, what scholarship money looks like [during] COVID. It was really helpful,” Moore said.

Stittsville, Ont.’s Taylor Heard visited Dal in September 2019, but decided on her commitment remotely, a year after her visit. (Photo by Cole Heard)

While some players have committed without going on visits, those who were able to do so before the pandemic, such as Taylor Heard from Stittsville, Ont., have been especially lucky. Heard had participated in a Tigers-hosted prospect weekend in 2019.

“For me luckily, I was able to go for a visit last September,” Heard said. “So, I had that luxury of being able to see the school.”

Schools like Dal have been doing virtual campus visits with players, but Heard said this process didn’t compare to being there physically.

“That was a big deciding factor for me, how I actually felt when I went to the school,” said Heard. “Just looking at pictures and doing virtual tours doesn’t really do it justice.”

Virtual communication

While the Tigers have been putting on presentations, creating recruiting videos and doing virtual tours, Tye said they’ve also spent a bulk of their time on Zoom.

“You know in the past it was just a phone call or an email, but with the [last] two kids recruited, everything was over Zoom or email. You still got a chance to talk to them and their parents. It’s something that before Zoom we didn’t do that often,” Tye said.

Tye added that they’ve been contacting players coaches and teachers about them since they haven’t had a chance to meet them in person.

While teams are hoping in-person recruiting may return soon, Tye said with COVID-19 case spikes in other parts of Canada, recruiting will likely remain remote for a while.

Although recruiting has become a far more difficult process over the last several months, Tye said some of the new methods will be helpful even once in-person recruiting returns.

“It has been a challenge,” she said. “But it’s also opened up some things that will help us in the future when this goes back to normal, whenever that happens.”

What makes Avatar so popular?

The television show Avatar: The Last Airbender brought generation Z joy when they were kids. Now it’s returned to the spotlight in an otherwise stressful year. What is it about Avatar that sparks relevance in 2020? 

What is Avatar: The Last Airbender? 

The show aired on Nickelodeon from 2005 to 2008. For those who are unfamiliar, Avatar is set in a fictional universe where people can telekinetically control the four elements: water, earth, fire and air. Each element has a corresponding culture and people. Although not everyone in this fictional world is able to control an element, each community depicted has their own set of values and beliefs.  

In this universe there is an avatar: a person able to control all four elements and who is meant to keep balance in the world. But prior to the start of the show, the avatar had vanished for a hundred years. In that time, the fire nation launched an attack on the rest of the world with the goal to assimilate all other nations into their culture, which they believe to be superior. The show begins with two kids from the water tribe, Katara and Sokka, finding a mysterious airbender named Aang trapped in an iceberg. We soon find out Aang is the avatar who went missing all those years ago. This launches the story of Aang and his friends travelling the world so he can master all four elements and end the fire nation’s war on the world.  

Avatar was unique for its time because it uses non-European cultures as the basis for its fantasy universe. The fire nation was inspired by Imperial Japanese culture, the water tribe by Inuit culture, the earth kingdom by Chinese culture, and the air nomads were inspired by Tibetan monks. It’s worth noting the show creators are two white American men, but critics have praised the show for its careful depiction of Asian culture and marital arts. 

Parallels to real life 

Avatar has become one of the most popular choices for cosplay events due to a resurgence in popularity of the show. (Photo by Nathan Rupert)

Ethan Bligh, a first-year arts student at Dalhousie University, was struck by the political parallels between the show and today’s political systems.  

 “[It] can seem really fascist,” Bligh says, “how the fire nation views so much of this war, where they have completely erased history and then rewritten it to make them the good guys. But also the end of season two. . . has a lot to do with monarchies and secret governments and the power dynamic between people.” Bligh also noted the similarities between the fire nation and the current United States’ governance. 

The wide range of protests that have occurred in the past few years, the causes ranging from stopping climate change to ending police violence against Blackpeople, show how disappointed many young people around the world are with their political leaders. Youth may find unfortunate parallels between the leadership of their countries and the failed leadership of different nations in Avatar.  

An optimistic message 

However, the show’s main message of hope is what makes it an uplifting story as opposed to a dark mirror of the current global situation. The show repeatedly emphasizes hope as the most important thing the main characters need to hold onto in times of struggle. The show’s recent increase in popularity could be the result of youth reaching out to feel that hope for themselves.  

Another draw is the relationships and dynamics between characters, and how they were executed. Josh Haglof, a third-year Dalhousie student majoring in environmental science and computer science, was particularly intrigued by the relationships between Aang and Zuko, the fire nation prince who was tasked with capturing the avatar at the start of the show.  

“That is kind of like the parallel story throughout the series. . . where Aang saves Zuko and says that maybe they could be friends,” Haglof says. “Then moving on later into the third season where that actually comes together, it’s very satisfying.”  

The relationship between these two characters is particularly intriguing to many fans, as is the character of Zuko in general. As the prince of the fire nation, Zuko was raised with certain values and prejudices instilled in him from a young age. But when given the chance, he grows as a person and changes from  an antagonistic character in season one to a friend of Aang’s in season three.  

Haglof says, “I think that the central message you can take from the show is that you have a lot of ability to change your life for the better, even under extreme circumstances like Zuko’s. Do what makes you happy and what you think is right, versus people around you telling you what’s wrong and right that you don’t agree with. You can’t control destiny. It’s just your life so just kind of go with the flow.”  

Ultimately, there may be many reasons for the show’s resurge in popularity in 2020. It could be nostalgia for a simpler time during childhood, where we could tune into a random episode on Nickelodeon with no care in the world. Or maybe in this current political climate, watching a show where a group of kids saves the world gives us hope. Whatever sparked this reawakening in the hearts of gen Z and millennials alike, it’s clear the show continues to bring forth positive feelings to its audience.  

Dalhousie Poets: growing pains

Editor’s note: This piece was first published in an online issue of the Dalhousie Gazette (issue 5, volume 153). The following version has one additional poem than the original piece.

doodles 

i wonder what this whole growing up thing is like  

the similarities between my old self and this hurried, charcoal sketch of a college girl 

what it’s going to be when maturity is nothing but a receipt stashed away in my old knicker drawer 

but. . .  

i picture it’s going to be something like this:  

last night i wiped off all my makeup 

looked at myself in the mirror 

squeezed the last drop of cheap mascara into a white towel 

and yet 

             even without angry black eyebrows and dark eyeshadow slathered on like a quick response to a threat  

                                                                                                      . . . i still don’t  

look like a kid anymore  

don’t feel that soft innocence that makes kids skip instead of walk 

as though they were jumping from one orange cloud to the next 

sure my cheeks are still puffy, 

but i’m sure some will eventually attribute it to meth and not youth  

certain strokes in my face are not watercolour splashes anymore, but  

lines  

       of 

              time  

                             (which no bawl fest will ever wipe off) 

dark purple surrounds my eyes like half-moons,  

dusk perpetually imprinted underneath each eyelid 

                                                                                                                   open wounds of seeing things as they are 

i think i just learned too much  

too quickly  

shouldn’t have skipped the syllabus in my freshman year  

that extra page on how to be alone  

how to trust others   

trust yourself  

or better yet 

                                                           read that glossary on how to hold back and not think the best of people too soon!  

Artwork by Mariana Gonzalez Vega

                                                                                 sure, lend them your trust, but don’t give it away like it’s mint gum!  

but i guess it’s too late  

and it’s all been for the best in the end  

growing up is an illness that happens to even the best of us  

and i can tell you about all its symptoms 

twinkling 

i believe we are born trapped in a perpetual state of forgetfulness where the white of our cracked bones  

and the fleeting sprint of the clock always reminds us of hollow blankness  

instead 

of the colours of moonlight  

                                                                                                                   our stories aren’t as empty i promise  

no one is the sequence of numbers they dialed at three a.m. 

the childish shake of their shoulders as they cry their guts out on the phone 

nor are we  

the promises we made with our glasses spilling  

of champagne and illusions of grandeur  

it’s not me, dear 

that girl you saw under the silver disco ball on that forbidden December night  

not me,  

the one you saw under the pale glow of the waiting room at the doctor’s 

(my heart cracked not in two but three) 

                                                                                                 we may have existed during these moments,   

                                                                                               but we are not monochromatic snapshots 

          of highs  

                             and lows 

i don’t follow any religion except the doctrine that says we are more 

. . . more memorable  

more like    

a thousand little deaths,  

which make our existence a burning star  

flashing so intensely and quickly it makes the milky way vibrate  

as we pocket memory after memory 

mars and the moon switched places the day you sat in my row during a safe sex lecture  

the guttural black hole grew a little darker  

that time i was called Mexican because my skin is tan in a way  

that scares you  

unless you chose it out of a plastic bottle  

in a tanning salon  

this was all as real and as impactful as the fact that the earth revolves around the sun  

almost 30% of the Americans are ignorant towards this fact  

there is that loving 70 % that believes that we are naturally close to great, shiny planets 

locked in a passionate waltz 

                                                                                                                         and i’ll tell you now that you and i matter  

that the true value of the world lays in the little stories we tell each other before we fall asleep  

i promise 

your teenage philosophies are valid 

even if no one sends spaceships  

to explore such tremendous spaces  

you are not a mouth-drooling joke 

for pulling stories out of your hurt  

and thinking that your stories have got 

Artwork by Mariana Gonzalez Vega.

to be connected  

like ancient constellations lovers point out in midnight picnics 

                                                                                                like the universe, we like to dream up ourselves as infinite 

                                                                                                                                         except that we’re also infinite 

                                                                                                                                                                                        ly 

                                                                                                                                                                                stupid   

and that’s  

infinite 

ly 

lovely 

“Dalhousie poets” is a rotating column in the Gazette’s Art & Lifestyle section featuring poetry by students on various subjects. Interested in submitting your verse? Email arts@dalgazette.com. 

Max Taylor is much more than a TikTok star

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Max Taylor may never have run for mayor of Halifax if it weren’t for basketball. 

As another humid summer came to an end on the East Coast, Taylor found himself glued to his phone. He wasn’t interested in politics. He liked sports. Taylor is a huge fan of basketball, specifically the Toronto Raptors. Raised by a single mom, he found male role models in NBA stars like LeBron James and the late Kobe Bryant. 

Watching the NBA is where he saw Chris Paul, National Basketball Players Association president and Oklahoma City Thunder guard,  encourage his entire team to register to vote. By October, 90 per cent of NBA players had signed up to vote in the upcoming American election on Nov. 3.  

“It was very important to him that his entire team votes,” Taylor said. 

That’s when Taylor started looking at voting in Halifax. Taylor was startled to discover less than one in three eligible voters cast their ballot in the previous election.  

Then, on the last possible day, Taylor submitted his nomination package to city hall and got his name on the ballot for mayor.  

The results of the election did not fall in Taylor’s favour, but his objective of increasing voter turnout proved successful. About 30,000 more voters took part in this election compared to the 2016 Halifax municipal election.  

How he found his platform  

Taylor’s run for the mayorship
demonstrates that political newcomers should not shy away from putting their names on the ballot. (Photo by Geoffrey Howard)

Despite being slapped with the label TikTok star, due to his 650,000 followers on the social media platform, he distanced himself from the app to focus on his campaign.  

“Not once in an interview have I ever mentioned it myself,” Taylor said. He wasn’t the one to bring up TikTok during his conversation with the Dalhousie Gazette either.  

Taylor’s social media presence may only be dwarfed by his work as an entrepreneur. Taylor attended Bishop’s University, studying business and sports management. He ran an ice cream bike, a sports website, and a media company dedicated to creating commercials for small businesses around the peninsula. He also spent two years working for the parks and recreation department with the municipality.  

 Though the novelty of his get out to vote campaign began to wear thin, Taylor had the attention of prospective voters who wondered what kind of platform a 22-year-old would bring to the table. 

“If the federal government went away you’d notice in a couple of weeks,” Taylor said. “It’s the municipal government where change happens immediately.” 

People will notice, he says, because the buses stop showing up and the garbage truck doesn’t come. 

This became a central talking point for Taylor. His campaign highlighted the need for affordable housing legislation, improvements to transit routes and budgets, and creating opportunities for young people who want to stay in Halifax.  

Putting together a run for mayor  

Taylor’s campaign team was small but mighty. It was made up of his mother, a friend and his ex-girlfriend. A few additional friends helped manage Taylor’s social media.  

Running for mayor in a global pandemic came with additional barriers to campaigning. Debates weren’t held in front of large audiences and door knocking was suspended. 

To help him participate in candidate debates, his campaign brought in Brian Casey, a former debate coach at the Sacred Heart School of Halifax, where Taylor went to high school. 

In the race, Taylor faced incumbent Mayor Mike Savage, who secured victory and a third term on election night. Taylor received nine per cent of the vote, coming within 1,500 votes of second-place finisher: outgoing councillor Matt Whitman, who announced his campaign in October 2019, almost a year before Taylor.  

Despite having no experience in public office, Taylor’s run for the mayorship demonstrates that political newcomers with good ideas and a strong work ethic should not shy away from putting their name on the ballot.  

Giving young leaders a voice  

Lily Barraclough, a recent graduate from the University of King’s College with a major in environmental studies, believes the skepticism around Taylor’s campaign speaks to the pressure young people who step up to leadership roles regularly face.  

“It also sends a message that the younger generations are not a bunch of apathetic, technology-obsessed kids, which is often the view that older generations have of us,” Barraclough said. 

Barraclough worked closely alongside the outgoing city council, advocating for climate action and youth engagement with the iMatter Youth Movement  

“I think the results are very hopeful and definitely representative of a push towards change in our local politics and really having more voices at the table and pushing towards a better future, a more sustainable one with more equity,” Barraclough said. 

Tyler Shrum, a 28-year-old military voter from Cole Harbour, N.S., first caught Taylor on The Rick Howe Show. He followed Taylor on TikTok, but wasn’t initially sold on his candidacy. Shrum, who based his vote on issues surrounding the environment and affordable housing, thought Taylor offered an impressive platform that echoed his values.  

“Maybe it was a bit of a Cinderella story,” Shrum said. “It really gave the message to the everyday person that you don’t have to be this political junkie to get out there, make a difference, make a change and generate conversation.” And most importantly: “You don’t always have to win either.” 

What’s next? 

Taylor doesn’t know if he will run for public office again anytime soon. He expects to continue some form of activism after his defeat. He may have been met with a wave of skepticism when he announced his candidacy, but Taylor rose to the occasion. 

On the campaign trail, Taylor learned it’s impossible to satisfy each voter. 

“It’s important to build your core values and stick to them. Obviously you can change your opinion. But you can’t try and please everyone or nothing will ever get done.” 

Taylor, who’s a copywriter by trade, is overwhelmed by the positive response to his campaign.  

Taylor thinks it’s embarrassing only three candidates ran for Mayor in a city the size of Halifax.  

“Hopefully four years from now, we’re going to see a lot more people running, because if I can run, anybody can run,” he said. 

“You can tell people to vote for you all you want,” Taylor said. “ But I think it’s important people do their own research and find out who best suits them. And a lot of people aren’t doing more than just picking the most charismatic guy.”  

Screens on, minds off

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A recent survey from Mental Health Research Canada showed Nova Scotians were more likely to experience high levels of anxiety and depression following the start of the COVID-19 pandemic than Canadians in other provinces.  

This finding can be reflected in the Dalhousie University community, where faculty and students are feeling the toll of COVID-19 and the transition to online courses on their mental health and general well-being.  

The new student experience  

Cory Williams, a fourth-year history and political science major at Dal is completing the fall term at his home in Ontario as opposed to in Halifax.  

“It’s been rough,” Williams said. “I’m relying solely on myself to succeed and I don’t have the same support systems I would have had if I was on campus.”  

Williams said trying to focus while sitting in front of his laptop all day only encourages him to procrastinate and let deadlines pile up, which creates a paralyzing state of anxiety and stress. 

Students and professors are feeling the negative mental health impacts of virtual learning. (Photo by Geoffrey Howard)

 “You lay in bed at the end of the night and think ‘Wow, I did nothing today, but I have so much work to do,’” said Williams. “I just end up using cannabis and video games as a distraction.” 

David Pilon, director of counselling and psychological services at Dalhousie’s Student Health and Wellness Centre says Williams isn’t the only student feeling this way.  

He says many students have expressed they’re struggling to keep up with their academic requirements, and he worries about their well-being as they try to manage the stresses of living through a pandemic while adjusting to a brand new way of learning.  

“It’s not uncommon that we all might have expectations of ourselves in terms of our productivity and performance,” said Pilon. “When things change around us, and when we [become] more stressed, it may be important to adjust our expectations accordingly.”  

Hannah Pletz, a third-year political science major, has been trying to take advantage of the pandemic to do just that, but it hasn’t been easy. 

“I’ve been practicing being OK with letting my brain shut off, and if that means I need to stop being productive at noon on a Wednesday, so be it,” she said, “but even when you do take breaks. . . you’re just sitting in the same place. Nothing actually feels like rest.” 

Pletz says her struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder have made the reality of a global pandemic “particularly not fun.”  

“I tend to take things more seriously than most people do, which tends to put me in a state of more isolation or anxiety,” she said. “I spend too much time in my room.”  

Harmony Adesola, a second-year cinema and media studies student says he doesn’t even bother getting dressed some days.  

“I dread those [morning] Zoom lectures,” he says, “Normally I would wake up, eat breakfast and put effort into how I look for my classes, but now what’s the point?” 

Bunker mentality 

Nina Woulff, a Halifax-based psychologist and assistant professor for the department of psychiatry at Dalhousie, calls what Adesola is experiencing the “bunker mentality.” 

“[Bunker mentality] is like when you’re in a war and you have to go underground, but you just stay there for your own safety,” said Woulff.  

Although people with pre-existing anxiety disorders are more prone to the bunker mentality, Woulff says, she has noticed it among everyone since the start of the pandemic.  

“None of us have ever experienced such a pervasive event. . . It’s universal,” she said. “COVID does not discriminate.” 

Professors don’t have it much better 

Brad Wuetherick, the executive director of the Centre for Learning and Teaching, says it’s important to remember students aren’t the only people trying to cope with stress brought on by online school. 

“Teaching in this moment is particularly stressful,” said Wuetherick. “Many instructors have never taught online before, so there’s a level of stress and anxiety that goes with trying to prepare for courses.”  

Services available 

Woulff’s private practice shifted to offering primarily online counselling. Dalhousie’s Student Health and Wellness Centre has also transitioned to online services.  

Both Polin and Woulff say online counselling can be just as effective as face-to-face counselling, but students are craving in-person interaction.  

“We went to almost zero referrals for four to six weeks,” said Woulff. “Even current clients didn’t want to transition online.”  

Woulff says Dalhousie’s faculty and staff have especially felt the effects of the pandemic and the way it changed treatment.  

“I think for many of the professors, this has been awful,” she says. Some Dal professors are patients at Woulff’s private practice, where “they all beg to be seen in person,” she said.  

“We’ve never been through a situation like this that has so significantly transformed university and day-to-day life,” says Pilon. “Without a past to look back on, it is hard to say what the future implications of living through this pandemic will be.” 

Dal prof combines art, activism and community at Nocturne

Every year thousands fill downtown Halifax for one Saturday night to celebrate local artists. This year Nocturne: Art at Night still held in-person events, but people from across the world could also tune in from Oct. 12 to 17 for a week of virtual performances.  

One of those performances was Meeting Waters: Cross-Cultural Collaborations on Environmental Racism, a project by Ingrid Waldron, an associate professor in the faculty of health at Dalhousie University, and Nocturne curator Lindsay Dobbin. The performance was live-streamed via Zoom on Oct. 14.  

The project brought together local Black and Indigenous activists and artists to share stories of environmental racism from four communities in Nova Scotia: Africville, Pictou Landing First Nation, Sipekne’katik First Nation and Shelburne. 

The idea behind the project 

“We wanted to give the artists and speakers free reign to produce something that was interesting, innovative and told a story of the community,” said Waldron. “It was about the artist responding to the community speaker to determine what needed to be shared about that particular community.” 

Waldron evolved Meeting Waters from her Environmental Noxiousness, Racial Inequities and Community Health Project (the ENRICH project). According to its website, the ENRICH project is “a collaborative community-based research and engagement project on environmental racism in Mi’kmaq and African Nova Scotian communities.” 

Waldron works on the ENRICH project through her employment at Dal. Her book There’s Something in the Water: Environmental Racism in Indigenous and Black Communities inspired a documentary directed by Halifax-born actress Ellen Page. 

Meeting Waters differs from Waldron’s other projects with its focus on collaboration.  

“It’s not just people sitting side by side on a panel,” Waldron said. “It’s a real collaboration because the product is intersectional.” 

In April, Waldron began the project alongside Dobbin. Waldron’s goal was to bring Black and Indigenous communities together. She asked herself, “What does building bridges look like between African Nova Scotian and Mi’kmaq communities, and how can people who are not Black or Indigenous build solidarity with both communities?” 

Collaboration between speakers and artists 

Vanessa Hartley is an eighth-generation Black loyalist descendent from Shelburne. 

“Historically, there has always been solidarity between Indigenous people and Black Loyalists,” Hartley said. “Of course, it has to be strengthened, but we are fighting these battles together.” 

Hartley shared the multilayered story of her community with artist Leelee Oluwatoyosi Eko Davis.  

“The process with Leelee allowed me to unlock the potential to be artistic,” said Hartley. “It brought a whole new perspective to Shelburne’s history.” 

Artist Kirsten Taylor, whose performance name is Kwento, worked with Michelle Francis-Denny to tell the story of Pictou Landing First Nation. Taylor performed an original song entitled “Purple Tides.” Taylor’s song recounts the pollution caused by the Northern Pulp Mill in Pictou Landing, N.S. Wastewater was dumped by the mill into Boat Harbour contaminating the water from 1967 to January of this year. 

Born and raised in Preston, N.S., Taylor got her start singing in church. When writing “Purple Tides,” it was important for her to just listen. Taylor internalized Francis-Denny’s experience and wrote from that perspective. 

Taylor spoke to Francis-Denny several times, noting what Francis-Denny repeated while sharing the story, hoping to capture what was most important in the song.  

“It’s close to Michelle’s heart, so I didn’t want to minimize it,” Taylor said. “Choosing the right words was a challenge.” 

Virtual Nocturne still inspires  

At the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak, Taylor found it hard to be creative. But hearing the stories shared by artists and community members during Meeting Waters relit a spark for her.  

“I have been overwhelmed by everything going on today, whether it’s about race or the pandemic. I checked out to protect my own energy,” she said. But Meeting Waters reminded her of the importance of staying aware. “It didn’t feel overwhelming because it was such a loving energy.”  

Lindsay Ann Cory, executive director of Nocturne, saw the virtual festival as an opportunity instead of a loss.  

“We tried to lead by the artists’ example, highlighting artists that need to be heard right now and should be heard all the time,” Cory said. 

Managing virtual spaces meant Cory had to navigate challenging conversations with all the artists about putting their work online.  

“We all know the internet and social media are traumatizing places for a lot of people,” said Cory.  

Despite patrons watching the performance from their homes, positive feedback still reached the artists, speakers and organizers during Meeting Waters. The Zoom chat room was filled with messages of support and appreciation.  

Introducing Dal’s first director of African Nova Scotian community engagement

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Jalana Lewis is beginning a vital role at Dalhousie University for the second time in five years.  

In 2016 Lewis, who formerly worked in law and social justice, managed Lindell Smith’s successful campaign to become the first Black city councillor in Halifax in 16 years. After that, she became the lead researcher on the Lord Dalhousie Panel examining the university’s history and connections to slavery.  

This year, after co-managing another successful municipal campaign with Smith, Lewis is back on campus as Dal’s first director of African Nova Scotian community engagement. 

The position was created out of a recommendation from Dal’s African Nova Scotian Strategy Working Group, which is part of a team working to ensure the university better meets the needs of African Nova Scotian students.   

What will the position actually do?  

Lewis says she sees her job as encompassing two roles. One is to help Dal “improve their relationship” with the African Nova Scotian community.  

“I see my job, as well, to ask members of the African Nova Scotian community how things are going, and how they could better be improved, so that I’m not the only person informing Dalhousie when it comes to how to better improve relationships,” Lewis said.  

After working to elect the first Black city councillor in decades, then intensively researching the history of Dal’s connection to slavery, Lewis has an informed perspective on the past and future of the African Nova Scotian community.  

Jalana Lewis did legal and community-based work before becoming Dal’s first director of African Nova Scotian community engagement. (Photo provided by Dalhousie University)

“I do think that [the two job experiences] were really connected because they were very much built in the idea that in order to move forward, we also need to look back,” she said. 

Though in development for years, the creation of this position is timely. The Black Lives Matter movement saw a resurgence over the summer, and in September Dal joined more than 500 post-secondary institutions across the country for Scholar Strike Canada, a protest against anti-Black police violence and call for racial justice.  

More recently on Oct. 20, Queens University removed John A. Macdonald’s name from their law building to no longer commemorate the first prime minister who is considered the architect of the Canadian residential school system. 

Since the African Nova Scotian community has had a relationship with Dal for centuries, Lewis’s work needs to go beyond what is timely, she says. 

“I’m not sure that if there were one or two quick things I could do, that that would actually make members of the African Nova Scotian community believe, ‘Okay, Dal is ready,’” she said. “I think that the relationship building, just based on the history of the province, I think it’s going to take some time.” 

This doesn’t mean there can’t be changes made quickly, Lewis said. But with an institution the size of Dal, she’s hesitant to implement anything before spending the proper time learning how the university works.  

“What does alumni engagement and advancement do? What does the HR staff recruitment team do? If there’s a certain faculty that’s looking at better engaging African Nova Scotians, or has been for a while, what have they been up to?” she said. “I really think that I’ll be able to do my job well if I actually understand the institution I’m working in first.” 

A student and leader 

Born and raised in Halifax’s North End region, Lewis attended Concordia University in Montreal for her undergrad and returned to Halifax to attend Dal’s Schulich School of Law. 

While in high school in Halifax, Lewis never thought of going to Dal. The South End area in Halifax where the university is primarily located has always been a white neighbourhood, she says, so growing up in the North End she was rarely near the campus. 

“If I would have been on campus, I didn’t necessarily see people who looked like me or people I knew from my community working on campus, teaching on campus,” she said. It’s not that Lewis felt she wouldn’t belong at Dal. It was more the university didn’t even occur to her as an option, she said. 

Lewis recognizes that outreach to students in the African Nova Scotian community is important for Dal,  but she says the most important factor is for students to see themselves represented in Dal faculty.  

“People often choose paths based on where they can imagine themselves,” she said.  

Lewis experienced this issue first-hand when she was a law student at Dalhousie; she graduated as valedictorian in 2013.  

“What I would want to keep in the top of my mind is what it was like to be a law student and to walk into a building and only see portraits of mostly white men and some white women, and what that signals to me and reminded me of every single day that I walked into that building,” Lewis said.  

During her time in law school, Lewis says she only had one professor who wasn’t white. That professor was Indigenous and taught Indigenous law.  

“I know that there are lots of students from my community who have similar experiences. They continue to have similar experiences,” Lewis says. This can discourage students as they begin to imagine themselves in a professional setting, she says. 

When her three-year contract is over, Lewis hopes to have changed the way the African Nova Scotian community perceives the university.  

“I’d like members of the African Nova Scotian community to see Dal as a first choice when it comes to choosing university, whether that be undergrad, master’s or doctorate level,” she said. “And also a first choice, a first stop, when thinking about career prospects.” 

An election like no other

Voting has always been important to me. Some of my earliest memories are of watching my parents vote in elections and receiving an I Voted sticker.  

I always knew I would vote when I became of legal age. But until this year, as an international student from the United States at Dalhousie University, I had no idea how exhausting it would be voting in an American election overseas, especially during a pandemic. I always thought I would just have to fill out a form or two and then be done. But I was wrong. 

Getting an early start 

Last summer, my friends began posting on social media explaining how everyone had to vote through an absentee ballot because of the COVID-19 pandemic and to register early enough to make their vote count. It was a big election, and so I decided to start the process in July by registering online and sending my registration forms to my county’s board of election office in Bethesda, my hometown in Maryland.  

The process took two months to complete. In mid-September, after finally receiving my ballot via email, I realized I had to print the ballot and ballot envelope because Maryland doesn’t take electronic votes. So, after printing and filling out the documents, I went to the American Consulate in Halifax to postmark my ballot for free.  

American consulates have intense security protocol. The one in Halifax has an X-ray machine and metal detector to stop people from bringing in prohibited items: water, food, weapons and any electronics. This meant I couldn’t bring my phone. 

Tump vs. Biden
The election between Democratic nominee Joe Biden and president Donald Trump goes down on Nov. 3, 2020. (Photo by Patrick Semansky)

Before I left, I printed out directions and told my roommates and friends where I was going in case of an emergency. I wasn’t going far — the consulate is downtown on Upper Water Street — but I didn’t know how long it would take. I had never been to a consulate before. 

I was doing pretty well until I got lost at the harbourfront. There were no signs pointing to the consulate and I walked all over the place, ballot in hand until I arrived at Purdy’s Wharf, where the consulate is supposed to be. The buildings looked similar to the ones on my map, but the consulate wasn’t listed on the outside directory. So, I took a deep breath and walked into the nearest tower, which luckily turned out to be the right one. From there, I was guided to the ninth floor and walked to the consulate, relieved. I rang the doorbell and a security guard greeted me. She quickly took my ballot, and then I was on the way back to campus.  

Other students’ experiences  

The experience was overwhelming and tiring, but I wasn’t the only student who had to go through a stressful process to vote absentee in Canada this year. 

Sebastian Garcia-Lavin, a second-year political science student at Dalhousie who is from Boston, Mass., voted electronically. To vote he was sent an email and had to scan his government ID before filling out his ballot, which he found annoying.  

“It would’ve been easier if the process didn’t involve sending over a scanned document,” Garcia-Lavin says. 

Carson Straub, a third-year ocean sciences student at Dalhousie, also from Boston, found the absentee voting process easier than expected and registered in less than 10 minutes. However, he found himself double-checking the rules for voting absentee and how long the process would take. 

 “If there was more advertising regarding how much in advance you should mail in your ballot request, I believe the process could be a lot less stressful and a bit more seamless,” he says. He also has noticed how stressful the process can be, which can be daunting to some. “If voters viewed the process as less of an inconvenience and more of an easy opportunity to have representation in government, then they would be much more inclined to participate.” 

Though the U.S. presidential elections are a major spectacle every four years, only around half of eligible voters came out to vote in the 2016 election, according to Penn State University. The process can be exhaustive and long, especially voting from overseas or absentee, but it is an important way to take part in democracy, bring change to your community and voice your opinion. Everyone’s opinions matter, so to Americans in Canada: don’t be afraid to vote.